


break some bread for all my sins

by cassi0pei4



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassi0pei4/pseuds/cassi0pei4
Summary: She's always thought of herself as someone who looks on the bright side, really.  Sure, every job has its little hiccups, but one doesn't get to be right hand of Dark Lord Satan himself without that can-do spirit.  After all, to make an omelette, you get to break a few eggs, and that's not nothing.





	break some bread for all my sins

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Blood in the Cut by K.Flay
> 
> (sidenote: should I be concerned this is the second fandom involving a lot of cannibalism I've ended up in?)

She's always thought of herself as someone who looks on the bright side, really.  Sure, every job has its little hiccups, but one doesn't get to be right hand of Dark Lord Satan himself without that can-do spirit.  After all, to make an omelette, you get to break a few eggs, and that's not nothing. 

When she was given this assignment, watching over the spawn of Edward Spellman, she knew there'd be a couple of the usual perks: a school of young boys to terrorize, the occasional male mortal consumption, the potential for personal growth.  But this?

This she didn't foresee.

Zelda Spellman is stretched out in front of her like a taut artist's canvas, pale and smooth and unholily unblemished.  The witch is tied spread eagle on a St. Andrew's cross that Lilth conjured just for this purpose and the contrast of pale skin on dark wood and leather does something quite primal to her, calling back to old times of inquisitions and crusades and medieval torture. 

But that's only part of what's on the agenda tonight.

~

After Sabrina transferred full time to the Academy of Unseen Arts, Satan's mistress found herself in a bit of conundrum.  Mary Wardwell was still a teacher at that insipid high school. Of course, she could have taken a new host, but that would have meant starting from scratch all over again and re-earning the little twit's trust.  And Blackwood would have been tedious about it.  The Academy was still his domain and while she enjoyed pressing his buttons, provoking an all-out tantrum from the High Priest never turned out to be as much fun as one would think.  After all, at the end, you still didn't get to eat him.

And, as it turned out, she liked Mary Wardwell’s body.  She’s inhabited an odd thousand or so bodies during her millennia of existence and Mary Wardwell fell solidly in the top decile, no question.  Sure, there were downsides – her allergy to dust and ragweed came to mind – but she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed what she saw in her mirror every morning and night.   

She had decided was much easier to stay apprised of all of Sabrina's antics some other way, some way that would also give her an excuse for dropping by regularly and offering helpful advice.  And who better to serve as her conduit than Sabrina's aunt, the newly appointed choir mistress of the Academy, who came and went from the Academy whenever she pleased and had quite recently found herself in need of a new confidante. 

After all, Zelda had been so overwhelmed -- stealing a baby and trying to raise it with so little help, losing her sister to pesky little mortals and her niece and nephew to the academy, breaking it off with her lover and her high priest.  That kind of vulnerability, particularly in someone so self-possessed? Well, it was simply irresistible, like fresh baked bread, roasted apples with cinnamon, and sizzling meat on the fire.  How was any demon to resist?

And that was even before she'd had her first taste. That came later, after she stopped by one night, with some faux concern about Sabrina. But it wasn't long before tones became raised and Zelda aura shone with such fire she’d have sworn sparks flew from the ends of her hair.  She wanted more and she was nothing if not adept at twisting the knife.

"Your brother trusted me to--" But Zelda cuts her off, eyes flashing.  Ah, Edward, the open wound for every Spellman woman. 

"Don't you dare presume to know what my brother wanted--"

"Edward asked me to--"

"--I've had enough of your second guessing--"

"--protect your niece--"

"--and I am sick of your pretense, for the love of Lilith if--!"

But Zelda never finished her threat because hearing her true name taken in vein on those burgundy lips was too much for her stoicism to bear.  This wasn’t the careful seduction she had planned, and really, it should’ve worried her that all it took was one little truth for her plans to crumble, but as she catalogued the soft feel of Zelda’s lips and cheeks and curls, she couldn’t be bothered to care.

After a few minutes of careful research, she decides that kissing this woman really is remarkably like consuming others: the taste of salt and iron, the faint sound of whimpering, the eventual ache in her jaw overpowered by the overwhelming craving for more, more, more.

When they finally pull apart, it's Zelda who speaks first.

"Well, that was unexpected," she murmurs, her deep voice alight with flat-toned mockery.

Lilith inhales as though about to speak, but Zelda brings one slender finger up to rest over her parted lips.

"No," she says in a tone that brokers no argument, "No more from you."

And as if to ensure the success of her, Zelda kisses her again. 

Really, if she had known that this was an option all those moons ago, she would have never planned to inhabit the body of Sabrina's teacher instead. Torturing adolescent boys was fun, but it was nothing compared to the sound of Zelda Spellman trying and failing to muffle her moan of "Praise Satan" when she came. 

~

She runs one of her nails slowly down Zelda's spine. 

"My, my, my, what am I going to do with you?" Zelda shivers but doesn't respond.

"Have you been a good witch, Zelda?"

"No Madam," She always calls her Madam when they’re like this and there's always a little thrill that Zelda doesn't realize just how right the title is.

She leans in close to whisper her next words in Zelda's ear. "Well we can't have that, now can we?"

Zelda shakes her head, a stray curl shimmering in the low light. She grabs the back of Zelda's head and neck and twists a little too hard, far enough that their lips can just meet in a kiss that's sure to leave bruises by the morning.

"And what happens naughty witches?" There’s a pause and she can feel Zelda’s restless energy pouring off of her.

"Oh, just get on with it" Zelda whispers crossly, arching her back as much as the cross will allow. 

The words are barely out of Zelda's mouth before the cat-o-ninetails slices through the air to hit just above Zelda's ass with a swish and crack.  Zelda inhales sharply as blood rushes to the surface, staining porcelain into pink. 

Lilith leans forward and licks just behind Zelda's ear before biting the lobe gently.

"Now, should I leave you here to think on your sins, or would you like some more?"

She can't see Zelda's face, but she can hear the almost worshipful tone in her voice, "More."

"More what?"

"More, please Madam."

Lilith rewards her with two strikes a little higher and in quick succession.  Zelda hisses at the sting of the leather.  She's not relaxed enough to feel anything approaching pleasure yet, still fighting back against the pain. 

Four more lashes and she can see welts start to rise where the leather has overlapped.  Zelda's breathing evens out to a soft pant.

How strange humans are.  Mortal or witch, she can’t understand what it is that makes flesh want to feel pain? Want to cause it? Of course. Who doesn't?  (And demons do more than most.)  But want to feel it? Want to suffer with it, be reminded of it with every stretch?

Lilith knows pain, knows it better than any other sensation.  The flames of hellfire are omnipresent, hovering over her like the blade of a guillotine, dangling and deadly at any moment.  If she's honest with herself, she knows that one could fill a dozen mortal lifetimes with the time she’s spent twisting to avoid that blade.

It's three more lashes before Zelda cries out properly.  Lilith has broken the skin, and blood rushes up in small beads.  She's careful to avoid that spot on her next strike but she doesn't slow down.  Zelda wouldn't want her to.

By the time she finishes she can hear the constant sound of soft sobs.  She strokes down her back again, so gently that Zelda will barely feel it with the adrenaline pumping through her veins.  She finds each stripe of skin that where her whip broke skin and she slowly leans down to lick each one.  She doesn't consume women -- not like this at least, it’s the principle of the thing --  but that doesn't mean their taste is any less delicious. 

As her mouth leaves each, the skin stitches closed, still bright red, angry and raw but that too is as Zelda likes it. 

She'd healed her completely the first time they'd dabbled in this, and Zelda had never been so cross. Humans, even human witches, were quite perplexing.

"There now, that's a good witch." Lilith mutters as gently as she can manage as she helps Zelda down from the cross, unbinding the witch’s stiffened limbs.  Zelda's cheeks and nose are blotchy from her tears but the tension in her forehead is gone and her shoulders have relaxed.

Lilith settles herself against the headboard of her bed and helps the witch up as she drapes herself over her lap, her back exposed to the cool night air and her bare breasts pressed against the other woman's clothed legs.

Lilith softly unclips Zelda's hair and unweaves the curls gently, brushing them smooth with her fingers.  When she finishes, her fingers continue their gentle path down Zelda's arms, then up again, across her neck and whisper-soft across her back. 

She feels an odd twinge as she follows the line her whip travelled with the pad of her finger.  It's not a hunger.  She feels that too, always at the forefront of her mind, a desire to take and consume and subdue.  This is angrier, she thinks, more painful. It's the shallower cousin of abandonment or disappointment or despair.  How did humans refer to this? Attachment, perhaps? Or care?

They stay entwined like this for an indeterminate time.  She can't rush Zelda now, not when she's about to tell Lilith everything she needs to know.

"Sabrina no longer believes that the death of her parents was an accident."

Zelda's voice is hoarse but even-toned, her fury leeched out earlier with every crack of the whip.

"So, she took it upon herself to travel back in time to investigate it."

Lilith's hand never stops its gentle path, but she can feel Mary Wardwell's beating harder and harder at every word.

"And did she find anything?" She keeps her voice as steady as her hand. 

"The spell went wrong of course, so she arrived two years too late, though not late enough that her meddling didn't nearly kill her two year old self." She can hear the frustration creep into to Zelda's voice, but gives a small sigh of relief nonetheless.  Her plan to foil Sabrina had worked.  The teenage witch was still none the wiser. 

She lets her relief color her tone, "So, business as usual then in the Spellman household?"

Zelda huffs out a laugh.  Lilith can feel the other woman slowly armor herself again with every moment, bit by bit reassembling the formidable matriarch that she had forcibly broken. 

When Zelda lifts her head to face Lilith upright once more, the mask is back in the place.  Lilith scans it for a crack, searching the witch’s visage for any evidence of their earlier activity. The sharp black lines around Zelda’s eyes have blurred out into a haze of smoke, and her lipstick has smudged from its usual sharp edges.  She looks radiant. 

Zelda meets her gaze, her hand coming up to caress Lilith's cheek softly. 

"Yes," What question is she answering? "Business as usual." The words hardly matter.  Zelda's eyes have drifted to Lilith’s lips and as she finishes speaking she seals their lips together with an edge of desperation.

Lilith likes this part best she thinks.  Consuming Zelda’s pain is glorious, but ultimately unsatisfying.  But, after every confession, like clockwork, Zelda Spellman feels a need to repay the earlier cruelty with kindness.  And if the best way to restore balance to the scales is to have Lilith scream her satisfaction around Zelda’s fingers, well, she thinks she may be up to the task.   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make my day. Concrit and grammary/typo corrections welcome.


End file.
